The Ring

There has been a great deal of cretiny in my life of late.  Most of it, I'm ashamed to say, is of my own making.  The good news is that I am now free of BIG RED - he (?) is now in a landfill somewhere rotting down into the environment only to be found by future archaeologists who will be amazed that the fucking batteries still work.  They, no doubt, will use some future technology to recreate me from some random DNA I've left on the bleedin' thing and then I will go on display in some future human zoo as the sad loser wrongly accused of having had to use technology to get myself off rather than by meeting an actual living human being.  Of course I'll argue that I was appalled at the thing, it was a gift, I never used it but no, the future humans will nod sagely to each other and comment that I am clearly displaying the 'olden days' emotion of guilt and that I am one lying shit who cannot be trusted.  Pah, even the future humans are against me.  Actually, how dare they expect me to justify myself to them - down with future humans I say!

I am aware that I think too much.

So, cretiny.  Yeah.  I haven't finished wallpapering my bedroom yet.  I physically gave up the will to live and it has now taken so long to do I genuinely cannot bring forth the enthusiasm I started with.  Not that I actually started with much enthusiasm.  Enthusiasm isn't a feeling I'm very familiar with.  My default setting is apathy and it's a state I'm really rather happy with. 

I told you I got stained blue didn't I?  I can't remember but if I didn't then yeah, I woke up with a blue hue to my skin.  Even my toe nails were blue which was totally ridiculous, especially as I had a gig.  I mean, it's not normal is it?  I don't know of ANYONE else who goes to bed perfectly normal and then wakes up the next morning BLUE!  Some people reflected I might have something seriously wrong with me but I couldn't be bothered to check it out.  I felt ok so I guessed it must have come from the new Union Jack bedding my mother had bought me for Christmas.  Any way, the good news is that I am no longer blue but I am aware the Fates are still out there yanking my chain for their own delight.  Which leads me to THE RING.

Yeah, this is a new and significantly humiliating moment to add to my memory bank of humiliating moments.  It's not in the same calibre as the time I got flashed at and engaged apologetically with my pervert of the day or the time I frightened all those old people in the sea with my screaming and running across the surface of the ocean in terror 'cause I thought a dead sailor had touched me but yeah, this is pretty humiliating and PAINFUL too.  I guess I need to share in order to get it out of my head so that I can move on.

So, (sigh).  Bought a chunky ring with 3 big blue turquoise-type stones (I doubt it was real turquoise 'cause the band of the thing made my finger go green).  I had been wearing it on my ring finger but it was too big and I found it really annoying.  It wouldn't fit on my middle finger but I tried every couple of days or so just 'cause I was so annoyed at it twisting around the other finger.  Any way, a woman at work asked to try it on and with a bit of pushing she got it over the knuckle of her middle finger.  This made me think that I should just do the same which was a bit stupid of me really as I don't have big knuckles, my fingers are horrible peasant fingers made for working the land.  Like stupid square shovels rather than pretty piano players fingers. 

Herein lies my first stupid act.  I pushed the ring onto my middle finger.  Yeah it was tight and I did feel a bit of panic 'cause I knew it wouldn't come off but I ignored this.  Later on I fell asleep on the floor with my feet up the fire and my head on a Spongebob beanbag.  I woke up about midnight with a pain in my finger. Yup - swollen big time.  SHIIIIIT, I put it under the cold tap to try to bring down the swelling but my attempts to get it off were futile.  It was now about 12.20am and I realised with a sickening jolt I would have to attempt some self surgery. 

I am questioning my thought process now - you'd all attempt the self surgery route too wouldn't you?  Any way, that's what I did but 2 girls sharing a house - we've got no fucking tools, nothing useful, nothing helpful in a situation like this.  So, I spied the rack of kitchen knives and knew what I'd have to do.  I have this surreal memory in my head of me standing in the kitchen at about 1am with my hand flat on the work surface with the Tidiness Nazi arguing with me that I shouldn't be doing what I was about to do.  Hell, she was probably right but I could think of no alternative.  I chose a big knife with a serrated edge and began sawing away at the band of the ring.  The big problem was the swollen finger which was in the way and getting sliced at regular intervals.  I'm left handed and was completing the task awkwardly so the Tidiness Nazi bravely decided she must take over.  First cut slipped and scored a giant flap of skin through my finger.  My language was deeply unpleasant and un-Christian (good thing I'm not Christian really).  I took over again but all the blood and metal shavings were getting in the way.  I broke through the band but the ring was so thick it wouldn't come apart and slip off my finger. 

I knew I'd have to start again and take a chunk out the band.  The cycle started again.  More knife wounds to my fingers, more blood, more metal in the wounds and more bad language.  I eventually broke through another part of the band and removed the middle of the band.  It STILL wouldn't come off and all I'd done was make all of my fingers swollen, especially the one with the ring on which now had 2 sharp metal shards of ring stabbing deep into it.  It was blue and the time was now about 2.30am.

Frustration and pain overcame me and I cried that I may as well do the same as that bloke in the new Danny Boyle film and just cut the fucking thing off (how melodramatic can I get?)  At this, the Tidiness Nazi ventured forth the idea that we needed the fire service with cutting equipment.  I said no way.  She ignored me and called them.  I wanted to curl up and die.  Because of all the blood they said they'd come out and come out they did.  I was forced upstairs to change out of my dinner stained pajamas (you never expect fire men to come to your house in the wee hours do you?).  It took 'em about 40 minutes to get the sodding ring off.  They were surprised too.

Well, 2 days later and my fingers look like they're covered in defence wounds after a frenzied attack by a maniac.  That maniac was me.  I'm so ashamed...

A calamitous life

Well, The Fates have saved me from 2 great and foolish plans. The first to become a police officer (what would even possess me to think a hippy stand up comedian should even consider this as a viable plan?) and the other was to apply for my former line manager's job. I say 'The Fates' stopped me but, in actual fact, it was my ability to procrastinate to world class standards which stopped me from the latter act of foolishness. I got lost in thought at the money for days before I realised I would have to take responsibility for shit and other people's lives. When I tell you the next set of stuff you will realise that in actual fact The Fates have not saved me, they've saved the world from the cretinous buffoonery that is me; Sketty!

Ok, here's the first. Last week best pal and housemate Steph (for that is her name) decided she wished to decorate her bedroom. I had no intention of doing the same but got carried away when I saw all the paint. She can be a bit slap dash so I was a bit smug when I bought some sugar soap wipes, a selection of various sized rollers and erm, well no cloth 'cause they were a tenner. When I came to do my room, which even I will admit is a pig sty, I couldn't be arsed to tidy it up first - for godsake! I've got a life to live, I don't have 3 days to clean up my shit first! Anyhoo, I decided to use an old duvet cover as a sort of ground sheet (I bet that's not what they're even called) so I wiped the wall down (well done, me!) and wrestled the lid off the paint tin. As I was doing this properly and better than Steph was going to do her room I figured I'd use the paint on the lid with a brush to 'edge' the ceiling and door frame. Of course, it was important to move the paint container out of the way at this point. The Fates who like to yank my chain aren't getting me THAT way, oh no siree! I picked up the paint by the metal handle (which had another little turny thing around it) and watched in horror as the turny thing shot to the other end of the handle and I ended up pouring almost a whole pot of paint all down my front and over a chunk of my carpet. Calamity One. Oh yeah, Steph painted her room all gothic-y and had no accidents. I hate people who spoil my smuggery by being better than me.

The next calamity happened this evening. Housemate Steph popped out to the corner store and I chose to take a bowl of water out of the turtle house and clean the filter which was no longer chucking any water out. I had carefully put the big bowl on the floor and stepped over it to unplug the filter, thus kicking the whole fucking thing over (sorry Pepys - bet you never swore in your diary. Note to self: find out if Pepys used profanity in diary). We have wooden floors and I swear there were WAVES in the gigantic flood I had created. I ran to get a dry towel off the washing line and tried to mop the flood up before Steph got home. As I ran through the house with the sopping wet towel hoping to wring it out to have another go before Steph arrived I actually dragged the flood into the hallway and the kitchen. My pajamas were soaked, my socks were soaked and rather than clear up my mess quickly I dragged it around the house. Steph arrived back and apart from just weakly repeating '4 minutes, I've only been gone for 4 minutes', she was struck dumb in horror. She was even more pissed off 'cause this morning she'd mentioned we had no clean towels and had washed all the ones I eventually had to use to mop up the water and turtle shit flood. I take cretinous buffoonery to new and humiliating levels. I find that whenever I'm trying to be most careful that is when I'm at my most clumsy.

Ho hum. Two saves and two fails - thanks Fate